Amarantine
by Regal-Song
Summary: 10 Chapters. "He didn't have forever but you do. And you wonder time and time again, if that makes a difference." Post-Ghost In The Machine. John/Elizabeth.
1. Time

Hello there. This story is also posted on my livejournal community - **speckle_dots** if you want to see it further along. Over there it's up to the 5th chapter of 10, so if you want to jump ahead, please feel free to head over there and do so (but please comment? if you can?) Each chapter is accompanied by a song by Enya (as you can see below) so if you also want to listen to those as you read along (a few are instrumental) then they are posted to the livejournal community as well.

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_And who can say if your love grows as your heart chose._  
_Only time_.  
~ **Enya**, Only Time

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**Chapter 1:** Time

When you can't live and you can't die and all you've got left in the world is time, it flashes by in an instant. You can see the stars change, but you can't be sure if you're just sitting there and they are passing you by, or if the entire universe is sitting still as you float along.

You can't sleep and you can't dream and all you're left with is memories that plague your days; if days is still a measurement of passing time, you're no longer sure. Ships pass and you can sense them, hear them even, but you don't reach out. Anyone passing could help you, pull you aboard and assess that you're in perfect health and perfect strength - because you're entirely too perfect for your own liking - but you're waiting for one in particular. The only one that will never come and you think that perhaps, that is for the best.

You said you were doing it to prove to your people - those that followed you from their home because they believed that you held a new hope for their kind, a new way to ascend - you said that it was safe and that the world on the other side was going to be the perfect place for you to finally achieve your goal, to finally be free. But you lied, even in your mind you lied and you had known that you weren't doing it for them, you'd never done any of it for them, not really. You were doing it for him. It was always for him. Maybe that was selfish and perhaps you'd made them seem too wonderful that the Replicators that trusted you, expected too much of them, too much of you. But you can't blame yourself or them for that anymore. It had stopped being anyone's fault when you realised the truth. You were being played as expertly as you'd convinced them that Atlantis could save you.

In college you'd always prided yourself on being one of those independant young women who would do nothing for a boy and less for one who claimed he was a man. You were strong and passionate and you hadn't ever needed a single one of them. But ultimately - and you'd chuckle about the irony of it if you could - that is what your life had boiled down to.

You'd lived and lied and died, for a man. Justly, he wasn't just any man, but he was a man all the same and when all you have is endless time to mull over these things, the memories of your past niavete's are the ones that come back to haunt you so inscessently. They are the ones that beg you for a do-over. And you know that your desperation to see his face had blinded you from the notion that you were kidding yourself.

You fill your moments with as many of the memories of good you can recall, smiling faces, glittering disco balls, confetti. You like those memories, because they're of your life but they're not an intrusion into the memories you don't want to share with the unfamiliar body that is keeping both your consciousness and your soul, alive. You appreciate it, because it reminds you of Rodney and it was a small piece of him that you could hold near to your heart. But it wasn't a piece of ihim/i that you wanted, not matter how much you truely did love him. A peice of him was more a constant slap in the face than a comfort and you both love it and despise it, because you can't die but sometimes you want to and at the same time, you're still afraid to.

You thought that the loneliness would have taken you sooner, but it still hasn't and you start to wonder if it's been ten minutes or ten years. You're not quite sure anymore because you haven't smelt the jet-stream of a ship in such a long time. You haven't felt it's wake ripple against your cheeks and that makes you afraid that this little corner of the universe has been forgotten. Somehow it makes exsistance seem so much more barren, so much more pointless. But even though you're lost and floating and destined to eternity as nothing but a shell of memories, you're still not quite convinced that you're done, just yet.

He promised that he'd always find you. He promised that he'd never stop looking and even as you'd looked into his eyes, wanting so desperately to be in his arms as you stepped over the threshold of your fate, you had enough faith in him to believe that mortality wasn't going to stop him making that promise come true. Because you knew that no matter how little he'd come to trust your word - because it was your eyes he'd always trusted - as soon as you stepped through, he was going to know that you really were who he'd been praying all along you were.

He didn't have forever but you do and you wonder time and time again, if that makes a difference. You don't know and there is no way to be sure, but you do wonder because wondering is one of the few things you can do out here.

You wonder how much time has passed, you wonder where they are, you wonder if they're alive. You wonder if they've got families or if they're aging and walking the halls of a great forgotten city with walking canes and hearing aids because even the US Military cannot pry them away. You wonder if grass is still green and you laugh inside yourself, because you remember that offworld trip he took you on as a surprise gift for negotiating a truce and trade agreement between the Narka lians and the Gundra.

He'd told you to close your eyes the second you stepped through the 'gate and even though he was guiding you gently, you'd gripped his hand tightly - because you'd never quite been comfortable with offworld travel - as he lead you through to a clearing and quietly whispered in your ear for you to open your eyes. It was there that you'd seen rolling hills of cerulean blue grass, for the first time in your life. And you had loved it like he'd known you would.

You find yourself longing to know what became of him, if he's still walking the galaxy, searching for a way to save you. And you recall a moment in your life, so fleeting that you'd almost forgotten it's meaning. You remember standing in a lab with Rodney, wall to wall with boards full to the frames with code and formula that was jibberish to you then, but makes more sense as you glance at your memory of it now. You'd been trying to convince him that he had the power to save himself and like Rodney, he'd found that shred of defiance inside himself that insisted he resist it.

You tried to get him to ascend, because you'd wanted desperately to believe there was a way for him to survive; because if he could do it, then maybe there was still some hope for you. You'd never admitted it before, but you'd always had a soft spot for him. And you wonder if you had the heart to take your own advice.

You know that it's been a lot longer than you're willing to admit. The other Replicators that had walked through the 'gate with you have long since drifted away and you've been alone for decades, perhaps even centuries but you hope not on the latter. Decades would break your heart, but at least there was a chance he'd still be alive.

You take a deep breath, metaphorically, and as the only motor-function you have left, you revel in the feeling of closing your eyes. It's the first time in a long time, that you've seen a blackness devoid of stars, but it doesn't scare you like you had expected. You chemically slow your own breathing, because you can do that and so much more, but as you do your best to still your mind you let go of every thought and every feeling that could tie you to the body you inhabit. You feel compassion for it's original owner and wonder what she would have been like, but then you remember that she had come from Rodney's mind and you no longer feel the same sense of loss for her appearance.

It feels like moments before you can no longer remember what the face you wear looks like and whilst you know that your longing for him is what ties you to this place, you release it. With all of your heart, you let him go because he has been the burden you've carried and the last face you remembered since you stepped out onto the stars. You know that what you're doing, is ultimately a means to some kind of end, and you remember yourself telling Rodney that it'd never work if you intend to get something out of it. You remember yourself telling the Replicators that very same thing and you remember knowing that you'd never had the barriers against it that they had. True, it was more difficult a goal to reach for machine, than man. But at heart - and they had never known this - you had always been human and unlike them, you'd carried with you a soul that had always been set apart from the vessel that carried it.

So you let all thoughts run away and you search within yourself for some semblance of peace.

You find it and you latch on to it and as you feel a warmth on your face that you haven't felt for far too long, his face is the last you see once more.

TBC.


	2. Rain

_One day, one night, one moment,_  
_with a dream to believe in._  
_One step, one fall, one falter,_  
_find a new earth across a wide ocean._  
~ **Enya**, Book Of Days

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**Chapter Two**: Rain

Waking to an endless stream of light, you stare ahead of you and the thought that you can no longer see, so much as feel, doesn't scare you as much as you would have thought. It's because you don't have eyes, you don't have hands, you don't have sight, taste or touch, but yet you can feel everything around you as though all those senses have come alive at once. It's an all encompassing feeling, like the whole universe is suddenly inside you and the heat of a thousand splendid suns is pouring out of you like a torrential rain. There is a voice calling for you and while it's all around you, it's coming from within you too and you wonder for a moment, how you would have felt if you'd had to endure this when you were bound in human form. You don't let that thought linger, because your present memories of your life on the ground are filled with darkness and the overwhelming notion that you'd never hear a quiet word spoken in your ear - just behind the curls of dark hair your mother used to braid - as gentle kisses were peppered across your neck; you'd never hear the gentle laughter of a friend or feel the peaceful lapping of waves against your feet in the wake of a summer storm. Because you ended your days as something else you'd rather not remember.

The voice inside you is not your own and you're strangely comforted by his presence even though you were never really close. Fond acquaintances, you'd have said to anyone that asked, but not friends. And while he's speaking to you, while he's bringing you in and letting you see in a way that transcends being, you can suddenly feel them all around you, inside you. Some are strong beams of light and some are shadowed and further away than your stronger senses can reach. But they're there and he assures you that they're at peace. You worry for them, you can't help it, but he smiles and explains to you that weakness doesn't lie in choosing not to ascend. And suddenly you start to think that maybe Rodney is the bravest man you've ever known.

Teyla's there. Her soul is warm and her heart calls out for you, welcoming you with loving arms and for a moment, you forget the reasons why you hadn't come here sooner. You can feel them all in seeing nothing and you smile as every soul that's touched your life, brushes by you in moments; proving to you that they were worth the sleepness nights. And even though they seem to exist without regret, you're rather surprised that they waited for you. But then, you're not nearly as surprised as they are, that you weren't here first.

You're searching for ihim/i and you can feel Daniel's disappointment. But he's not disappointed in you, so much, as what it is that makes you suffer. You can feel him there, always close and for some reason you feel incredibly safe and grateful to him for accepting the task of setting your mind at peace. But all of a sudden he knows he won't succeed and you feel so very guilty for having let him see. And you're searching with your mind again, touching with loving strings, the hearts all the people you've loved and lost and found again in this place. But ihe's/i not there and you wonder if it's something you've done. Daniel promises you that it's not; he tells you in the way that substitutes the need for words here - a power you're surprised he's been able to master, considering both you and he had found such solace in words - that you don't need to worry.

Because they're all still waiting for ihim/i. And it's clear in that moment, that the two of you are the last.

And in that moment you know why he's not there. It's suddenly all that makes sense to you and if you'd had tears to release they'd have been shed upon your cheeks in a glistening waterfall of emotion; pain. Because _he's_ still waiting for _you_ and you're terrified that he's never going to be able to let go.

Daniel tells you a story; it's about a choice. And your heart smiles because you're sure that if anyone could understand, in this place, it's him. He knew what choice you had to make before you did and you're thankful that he found a way to hide it from the others. If you could have laughed, you would, because he's as much a rule-breaker as he is a saint and you're glad he hasn't lost that.

For the first time in what feels like millenia, your feet touch down on solid ground and you smile down at your toes, sharing a moment with the man who's moved up a step from 'fond acquaintance' because he understands the miracle of feeling your own feet beneath you. You take a tentative step before you laugh and realise that you've never forgotten how to walk. Billowing white fabric floats around your body like a halo, fluttering around your legs and brushing against the tops of your slippered feet and while you're marvelling at the remembered sensations the gown conjures, you know you're on a mission. You don't have much time and you don't want Daniel to suffer for your irrational needs, no matter how rational he tried to convince you that they were.

He didn't deserve to be punsihed for your 'human' desire and even though he insisted that he'd been down that road before, you got the feeling that a part of him didn't want to go there again.

Then you're there and _he's_ there and he's looking at you like he's seen a ghost. You're too afraid to admit to him that he has. You frown and purse your lips because he's old and you had never expected to see him like this, not now at least. You'd expected to see it come to this, expected to look at him in the mirror when you're drying your hair and tease him about greys that were bound to pop up as the years passed. But he's old _now_ and his dark hair is replaced by a white that's peppered with defused raven and you think that he'd look distinguished if he stood up straight and smiled; just once.

But he's doubled over suddenly and he's shaking his head, rocking it from side to side where it lay rested on his forearms and he's crying but you're pretty sure that you're not meant to know that. And as the rain starts to fall, you're too afraid to tell him that raindrops could never hide his tears from you because you're terrified he'll shatter if you speak. "You come now?" His voice cracks and you're not entirely sure what the question is supposed to mean, but you nervously offer him a smile and then he's reaching for you as though his words had held no bitterness at all.

His hands - frail and weather-worn - are pressed to your cheeks and you know your eyes are glistening because his touch - so different and yet, the same - sends a jolt through you that makes you stop and stare into his soul, the way you always did before, when he was just a corridor away and your stressful life was so much simpler. But he's frowning where you'd expected him to smile and you're confused, because just for a moment, even you forget that you're not really there. He doesn't say a word, just studies your features and you can see in his expression that he's trying to work it out.

But he hasn't come to it yet and you're sure it's not because he's stupid. He was never stupid. But age comes with it's demons and you're fairly certain that he lives with a few of his own because he's brushing his fingers through your hair and he's whispering secrets he shared with you well over sixty years ago. You remember them, of course, but sixty years ago is so much more recent for you.

You're standing in the rain with him, the lights over Atlantis are dimmed as the night rolls in and the salt from the ocean has drifted up to the tower. You can smell it and you remember how much you miss standing out here with him. He's battered and aged but he still looks every bit the hero; or maybe that's just your heart, filling in the blanks because you doubt he could hold a P-90 now. But it's pouring rain and he doesn't seem to care as he stares into your eyes like he's found the lost city of Atlantis all over again, and you start to wonder if he has the strength to realise that you're not getting wet.

As you disappear you see the face of a woman you feel you should recognize. But she's too young for you to have ever known and she's helping him walk, she's calling him Uncle and you feel tremendously guilty for the selfish gratitude that washes over you, because she didn't call him 'Father'. She wraps a blanket around his shoulders and you watch as she holds him close, trying to warm him but he's whispering your name and you feel like you could live forever, on his lips.

You're about to leave; Daniel is worried that you're going to be found out, but he stops and turns and you can't pry yourself away. You listen, as closely as you can and watch him as he looks out over the ocean from the window of what was your office, hasn't been in decades, but always would be in his heart.

"I always loved you, Elizabeth. I should have told you." And even though you're sure they'll tell him he was seeing things, it doesn't matter because he touched your face and he said your name and you can finally find peace.

But that peace is short-lived because John is gone and you can no longer feel Daniel's presence within you. The world around you is suddenly cold and you're falling, over the edge of the balcony rail and halfway down you can feel gravity's pull before the universe is gone and you're left with black; devoid of stars; again.

TBC.


	3. Home

Instrumental  
~ Enya, Lothlorien

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**Chapter 3:** Home

You wake slowly with a chill surrounding you. The air is cold and the wind is strong. It smells of salts and water and you wonder how you found your way to the ocean. Where you came from remains a mystery, but that's not the question that comes to your mind first. You're not surprised because where you were was the past, where you are is _now_ and you're confused but the feeling of the curls of your hair, dancing across your shoulders, soothes you into knowing this place is real. Blinking your eyes open, you see first, the cold surface where you lay. It's rough metallic texture makes your hips ache and your body pray to stand. Pulling yourself up to sit, you press your palms against the surface, but as you climb you set eyes on your fingers and you stare; you're not sure why you're so astonished to see your own hands.

The wind gusts and your hair bounces across your face. You hug your arms closer around your body and for the first time, you wonder how you got here and why you're not clothed. But what would clothes be like? You wonder and the only thing you're sure of is that clothes, indeed, exsist.

Casting your eyes out across the ocean, you look away from the metal spires around you because somewhere deep inside you, you fear what they hold. You use your curiousity to wonder about the city beyond the shore, because it looks simpler, safer and the houses built upon the hills look as though they could hold children, happily, contentedly. And you smile, because any place where children are safe, is a place you'd gladly go.

A loud whir sounds behind you and the pounding of boots upon metal reaches your ears. You're suddenly afraid to turn and your shoulders hunch, bellying that tension but the pounding slows and your head turns. Through the falling tendrils of untamed curls, you see the face of a young woman. She stares at you and you stare at her and you're not quite sure what it is she sees, but there is something in her eyes that warms you. The larger man to her right takes a step towards you and you hug your arms across your chest, closer, tighter, more afraid. He pauses; raises his hands in a gesture of peace, but you're still wary. You suddenly feel that somewhere along the line, it was your vocation to be wary. But you're not quite sure where that notion came from.

"Who are you?" He whispers but you say nothing. It's not because you're frightened, because that was an emotion that you'd rather you didn't show. But you realise it belatedly, as his question settles itself within your soul, that you've got nothing to say. You blink away a tear, because tears are always misread and you bite your lip, searching the ocean for an answer before looking back up at the woman's young eyes.

"You don't know, do you?" She questions and you have the suddenly overwhelming fear that she's older than her years. She knows too much to be young anymore and her eyes betray that she's seen too much. You don't know why that worries you, but it does and you're less inclined to hide that than the fear of these new people. Slowly, you shake your head and you want to hit yourself for how pathetic you must look, curled in a ball with your knees pulled into you chest, grasping at the very last shred of whatever dignity you may posess.

The man steps forward again, but you don't flinch this time because he's got a large black jacket dangling from his outstretched hand and he's smiling at you like one would a frightened child. "You've got to be cold." He smiles again and you allow him, as he cautiously wraps the large jacket across your shoulders. You swim in it, but it's warm and large enough to cover you and you're grateful. He helps you to your feet as the younger woman steps up to you, zipping up the jacket with a steady hand.

"Do you know how you got here?" She questions and you shake your head, eyes still wide and somehow you feel that she already knew the answer to that question.

"Come on, we'll take you some place warm." She smiles and you find that you feel safe in her care, even though you feel that your years far exceed hers.

The halls that they walk you through are bright and colourful, but the floor is cool beneath your feet. You look around, ignoring your icy toes as best you can as you watch in wonder, the colours of the windows as you pass, or the bubbling of water through the walls. The woman is holding your arm, guiding your way and while the man is there, he keeps his distance and you're grateful to him. You're not sure why he makes you uncomfortable enough to want your distance from him, but he does and you hope that it's either something that will heal or make sense of itself in time. She guides you into a small room, it's tight and you feel claustrophobic as the man steps in behind you. But he touches the screen on the wall behind your head and suddenly, you're walking out towards a grand room, filled to the corners with beaming light and an array of colours that warm you almost instantly.

You blink and the woman makes a small sound before you realise that you've stopped walking. Your feet have stilled and you're staring up at a large round object that makes you feel a sense of dej v . But you're not sure why, because you don't think you've been here before, but then everything looks like a memory from a dream and you're wanting to fall asleep just so that you can understand why. "What is this place?" You whisper, and you imagine that behind your head the pair are sharing a glance. Something is said between them, something silent and you feel like you should know how to speak that language, but you can't and you have to press your eyes closed tight to fight a sudden ache.

"This is the Gateroom." The man's voice reaches your ears and you nod but you don't know what that means.

"The Gateroom." You repeat and you feel like you should understand, but you don't and it's starting to unnerve you.

"Yes, do you know about the Stargate?"

You tilt your head away, as she leans around to meet your eyes and with a shake of the head, you're wandering ahead of them and hugging the jacket tightly around your body. Something about that question tore at your heart, but you're not entirely sure why. These people are kind and this place is amazing, but there's holes in your thoughts that you don't have a clue how to fill. They seem to want to let you find out where your feet have willed you to go and they don't seem to have restrictions on where you can, so you walk. One foot in front of the other, the cold is easier to ignore. The few people that cross your path in the hall, greet you with strange looks and you think that it has more to do with your attire than anything else. They seem to wear a sort of uniform, different colours depicting different stations. The woman following closely behind you wears a blue blouse and the man, a black tee. You don't know what that means, but you know it means they're different.

"Do you think she knows what she's looking for?" You hear the man whisper behind you and while it's poorly concealed, you know that it's only because he doesn't wish to disturb you.

"I don't know, Caleb." She answers and you realise that his is the first name you've learnt. You stop in your tracks, frozen and you turn. They stop too, staring at you and you can see in his eyes that he's afraid he's said something wrong.

"Your name is Caleb?" You ask and the woman seems to catch on to what you're doing.

"Yes, and I am Meredith. Do you know your name?" She answers for them both and ends with a question that causes you to purse your lips and shake your head - because you don't know your own self any better than you did ten minutes ago. You turn away quickly and continue to walk. You reach out a hand as you reach a flight of stairs, watching it slide down the ballistrade and you smile at the feel of the cool metal rail against your fingers. You're not sure where you're going, but this seems to be the path your heart wants to take, so you take it. Hoping that there is a destination at the end.

They linger further back and while you can feel that they're not as close now, you know that they won't leave you alone. You're a stranger that fell unconcious on what could be conceived to be their doorstep, with no knowledge of who you are or where you came from; the threat outweighs the intrigue.

You step past a doorway, but when it instictively opens for you, you stop and you take in a deep breath. The pair of them are beside you in moments and you realise as you meet Caleb's eyes, that he's just as young as Meredith, but you hadn't noticed before. You can see it now, as the two of them stare through the open doorway like two children that wandered too far from home. "Perhaps we should get you to the infirmary, our doctors will want to make sure you're in good health." Caleb tries to usher you away, but you're drawn to the darkness of the room and you shake his hand away, taking a step towards the threshold.

"Please," Meredith pleads. "these are private quarters, we are not allowed to be here." With one foot through the door, you stop and retrieve it. You don't want to intrude, but then the room is calling for you and the lights flicker on with your presence. You want to heed their words, but an object across the room, on the table beside the bed, catches your eye. Before Meredith can reach out for your hand, you're crossing the room with determined strides and you're picking the object up between shaking fingers.

You study it closely and the intensity with which you do, seems to have both Meredith and Caleb at a loss for how to interfere. They each know that you shouldn't be here, as you do. But you can't pull yourself away from the delicate engravings around the rim of the small, terracotta urn. "I know this." You feel yourself murmur as you run your thumb over the shallow engravings. An image washes over you, seabreeze and a summer morning, a man's smile and a feeling of belonging in a warm, mirthful atmosphere. The image is gone in a blur, faster than it was conjured and you feel the loss of it deep within your heart.

"Please,"Meredith smiles, taking the urn from your hands and carefully replacing it before guiding you back towards the door. "we have to take you to the infirmary now."

You go with her, because you feel no sense in fighting it. You are the stranger to them and they have the right to mistrust you. You hear the doors close the room in darkness again and you crane your neck back over your shoulder to see nothing but a door. But the knowledge that it's there, warms you and you feel safer somehow.

Caleb guides you towards a bed and with a small smile for his benefit, you allow him to help you up. Twenty minutes ago you would have recoiled at the feeling of his hands against your skin, but you don't because he's kind and he's patient and you're more interested in the man that Meredith is ushering towards you anyway. She has her hand set in the centre of his back and the chin that she rests on his shoulder as he fills out a patient's chart makes you curious about their relationship. He's smiling as he signs it and sets it down, but when you expected him to turn and kiss her, he merely shrugs her away and she smirks. There is something there, but it's different to the silent understanding that Meredith seems to share with Caleb. This relationship before you seems more relaxed, more casual and you think that perhaps they're family.

"So I hear that you're having a little trouble with your memory." The doctor smiles down at you as he pulls a stool up in front of you and takes a seat. You're surprised by the brightness of his blue eyes and with a glance down at his lips, you're not entirely sure why you'd expected him to sound different. You nod and that seems to be all the confirmation he reqiures, because he's turning and he's gathering his equipment and Meredith is smiling at your side like a new found friend. You decide in that moment, that you like her and she looks down at you with that patient kindness as the doctor turns back, holding in his hand, a needle and a small swab. "I'm just going to need to take a blood sample, is that alright with you?" He's already holding out your arm but while he's ready, he's waiting for a response from you.

"Yes," You rasp, because your voice has been so rarely used since you opened your eyes and he purses his lips. He's gentle and seems sweet and you feel comfortable in his care, enough to ask him a question that weighs heavily on your shoulders. "could this help me to find out who I am?"

He looks up at Meredith, who frowns and averts to Caleb. But the man is sitting on a bed two away, staring at his swinging feet and he's little help at all, to calm her small moment of defeat. But the Doctor saves her, smiling as he wipes your arm and carefully inserts the syringe. "Unfortunately, I don't think so. If you're not from here, we'd have no record of you, but how about for now, we just focus on making sure you're in good health, how does that sound?"

His question deflects and you know that, and you know that it's unfair of you to ask them for all the answers when you have none of your own to offer in return. You just pray that they don't discover you're something that you don't want to be. You get a sinking cold feeling in your stomach, a fear, that you know what it feels like to be cast out and you're terrified of what they may find. But then, there is a presence in the room that has you drawn to look up and there is a man standing in the doorway with a cane and a limp and a smile that matches the slant of his gait. He's looking at you with clouded hazel eyes and you bite at your bottom lip, wanting for him to speak.

"Uncle-" Meredith begins, but he takes a step forward, ignoring her as she attempts to aid his steps. He's making his way towards you and you realise that he's staring and the Doctor has since moved away.

"Hi," He whispers and you're caught a little off-guard by the breathlessness of his tone.

"Hi." You reply and you're suddenly very conscious that you're only wearing a large jacket as you fidget with the hem against your thighs.

"You'll find her in the database." He states, looking up at the doctor who's brow furrows as he turns in confusion. But the elderly man is already looking back into your eyes and you feel safe there, more than you've felt since arriving in this place and you wonder if he could be some kind of relative. Father, grandfather, perhaps. But then, Meredith referred to him as 'Uncle' so you're fairly sure she'd have recognised you if you shared a common relative, so you scratch that and opt for waiting for him to gently hand back to you, your lost truths.

"So," He's smirking and the sudden impulse to smirk in response is not lost on you. "you finally decided to come home, Elizabeth."

And it's in that moment that you see the look in his eyes. It's the one you can see has aged him, that one that's brought him pain and heartache, the one that's had him waiting, wanting and knowing this moment was coming, for such a long time. You're not sure what it is he knows, but a joy bubbles up inside of you as you realise that he's given you a name.

TBC.


	4. Alone

_Dawn breaks; there is blue in the sky._  
_Your face before me though I don't know why._  
_Thoughts disappearing like tears from the moon_.  
~ I Want Tomorrow, Enya

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**Chapter 4**: Alone

Nervously, you tuck a few stray curls back behind your ear. Meredith gave you a tie to pull your hair back, but it's done little good for the wild curls that refuse to be tamed. "Who am I?" You ask, licking your bottom lip as you watch him smile gently. He's looking at you like he's only just realised that the two of you have been left alone and he seems to be thinking it over, or more likely, he's deciding where to start.

You find that you're extremely curious about him because you figure, that with his distinguished brow and his secretive smile, he would have been an attractive man when he was younger. Which of course, leads you to thinking about what he looked like when he was younger and you blush as he catches you studying him and he's looking at you as though he knows exactly what you're thinking.

You get a strange, eerie feeling that a long time ago, that happened a lot.

"You were-" He stops himself and averts his eyes, blinking, before he looks back up into your eyes with an apologetic half smile. "are," He clarifies. "the original leader of what we called 'The Atlantis Expedition'." Your first impulse is to think that sounds fascinating but you also have no idea what it means; you don't have to say anything though, because it's written plainly on your face, at least you think it might be, because he's reading you like a paperback of 'War&Peace' and while you're not entirely sure where that particular reference came from, you're grateful that he jumps straight into explaining it for you. "This-" He gestures around you, generally. "is the city of Atlantis."

You eyes widen at that and you find yourself immediately wanting to know everything. Who you are, who he is, what it really means to be in the city of Atlantis. You want to know why this city is so special and why there seems to be so few people here. You want to know what it is that has him saying your name with such reverence that your heart tingles and you're praying to whatever god used to hear your prayers, that the name he's given you, really is yours. You've known him five minutes and you're silently begging that you don't have to give him up. He holds too many secrets and even if they're all lies, his eyes are so honest and you want to believe him.

Inching forward on the mattress until your bare toes are almost touching the ground, you lean towards him and instead of tilting away like you thought he would, he's reaching out to you with an old, shaking hand. "Come with me." He whispers and you don't hesitate. You slip to the ground and you feel the wrinkles of his fingers against your palm. In between the callouses his hands are soft and you smile, because his touch is gentle and sure.

You don't even care that you're not dressed yet and you're hugging the over-sized jacket around you like it's already yours. You were uncomfortable around him before, being as scantily clad as you are, but you realise that it came more from his sudden appearance in the room, and perhaps his age. But you're comforted by him now, happy to be in his presence and no longer disoriented as he invades the small bubble of space around you.

You're walking down a dimly lit hall and you can feel his chest at your shoulder. Every now and then the spance of his worn muscles brushes against your back, because his walk is slanted and his steps, difficult. But he's guiding you with a firm hand at the base of your spine and you're content to walk, watching as the lights flicker on the further you go. Not even aware that behind you, they fade to black as they'd once been, waiting patiently for his return to give them life again.

"Where are we going?" You question and you're annoyed with yourself that you've let your voice lose it's timbre. It's weak and wobbly, but he doesn't seem to mind. There is even a hint of a smile in his answer as he gestures for you to turn slightly, down another hallway, as he answers.

"Somewhere that I hope you'll remember."

It's when the rooms are brightly lit and the stars of the night sky are shining in through broader windows that you realise you recognise this place. But you don't remember it from before; you wish you did; you simply remember standing on the threshold of a room that made you quiver, flanked by Meredith and Caleb. The halls sound like trickling water and you wonder if they've done that to enstill a sense of peace in the inhabitants, but you remember that he said you lead an expedition to Atlantis and putting two and two together tells you that, this city wasn't always theirs; yours; you're still not sure how to define yourself.

He waves a hand in greeting to a man passing by, clutching a computer, and you realise that now that you're with him, you're not recieving those same strange looks you did, when Meredith and Caleb found you and brought you into this place. The man simply inclinded his head, tipped it in greeting and continued to walk. And it makes you wonder who exactly this man is, to these people, to this place and more importantly, to you. You look up at the man then, realising that you don't know his name, nor how to address him. You don't need to though, because he looks down at you slightly and he smiles. And you're not even disconcerted that he's moved a touch closer.

You want to ask him the question that's eating you alive, but somewhere inside you you're sure that he plans to get to that in time. You have no idea why you feel that way, because you know nothing of this tired-looking, old, soldier. You stop suddenly, turning to him as you realise that what you've just thought, you couldn't have known. He watches you intently and you're surprised that he's not concerned with your young fingers travelling up the lines of his old torso. You feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his button-down shirt and you feel that once upon a time, his chest was lean and taut and his muscles more defined, but you suppose that could be said of any young man, softened with age. Your eyebrows knit together as your fingers tickle the edge of what you're looking for. He's smirking, as you glance at him, though you're not sure why.

He lets you move. He doesn't even attempt to stop you as you press your palm over the warmed metal that rests against his chest. It makes a clinking sound, as the two peices collide and suddenly, you're far too curious to simply feel, you want to see. You reach up, pausing as his eyes search your face, before he reassuringly gives you a nod and you're reaching for his neck, pulling at the ball-chain until two flat pieces of metal fall free against your hand. You let them drop, hitting his chest with a clank before your shaking hand fumbles for them again.

"What are they?" You ask, but he just smiles and you can't help but search your mind for a reason you'd known they'd be there. You don't find one, but that doesn't scare you as much as you thought it would. You study them, not entirely sure what you're looking for because they're small and metallic and they're covered in a sequence of numbers that make no sense to you. There is a name and you figure that it's his name, though you don't want to ask in case you're wrong. "Is this -" You hesitate, swallowing. "is this you?" You're tilting the small metal disk up towards his eyes and he studies it closely, as if he's never read them before and you get the destinct feeling that he's playing a game with you.

"Last time I checked." He grins and you find that his humour makes you smile. You look back down at the disk, you're twisting it in your fingers and you haven't even noticed that your arms are comfortably pressed into his chest and he's not moving for fear that you'll step away.

"J. Sheppard..." You read. "DOB: 01.05.67 - AB+ - ATA." You look up, confused. "What does that mean?"

He blinks and you suddenly realise how close you are. You jump back, unaware of the saddened expression that washes over his face in the seconds that you're not looking at him. You wonder about the way he'd looked at you, like he'd expected those words and numbers to somehow bring you back and you feel guilty, because he's trying and you're failing to see what he wants you to see. "I'm sorry," He clears his throat and you look up, not entirely sure what he's apologising for. "I thought that, maybe," He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Look,"

"What year is it?" Your question startles him and he seems to need a moment to breathe, studying you.

"Twenty, sixty-six." He answers, as though that very truth was a burden. Almost as though he didn't want to tell you, regardless that it means little to you.

"When did I disappear?"

"Ah," He falters and you realise that while he seems so very uncomfortable, he's willing to answer you anything. That tells you more than you thought it would. "sixty years ago."

You stumble backwards, unsteady on your feet until your back hits the wall. He tries to reach for you, but his efforts are half-hearted because he knows you don't want to be touched, not now. And for a moment you're annoyed that he knows you so well, when you don't know him at all. You look up at him; your heart is beating wildly in your chest and your hair, long ago given up on being tied back, falls in your eyes as though it wished to add to the fogginess of your thoughts by obstructing your vision; you don't brush it away.

"Elizabeth;" He stumbles as you pull away from him, shuffling down the hall and suddenly, the cold beneath your feet is palpable again. "please." He's pleading and you're running, stumbling, turning back to him.

"Why don't I look like you?" You look down at your hands, they're lined a little, older than Meredith's but still young and vital. They're still strong and the freckles along your arms make you feel like a child. "I should look like you."

He doesn't know what to say and you can see it. He hadn't planned for this and you're so deeply sorry that you can't let it go, that you can't just smile and accept what is so undeniably wrong.

"I disappeared sixty years ago. Why aren't I old? Why can't I," You stop. You don't know what you're trying to ask because there are too many questions and far too many ways to ask them wrong.

"Elizabeth," His voice is soft, gentle and you wish that it wasn't. You wish that he didn't sound so safe and familiar because you want to run from him but you don't know where else you could possibly find comfort. "I don't know why. I don't know what happened to you, but I've been waiting," His voice is barely more than a breath and your heart is breaking as you listen to it, as you hear the tears in his voice as you feel them on your cheeks. "I watched everyone else go and I've been waiting, a really long time."

You want to reach for him, your instinct is to touch him, hold him and tell him that you're there. But your brain screams at you that you have no idea who he is, just how he makes you feel and logically, that's not enough. Sixty years and you haven't aged a day. You can't ignore it. He tries to reach for you hand again and the movement is tentative, but you yank your hand away as though it's been burned and suddenly, without thought, you're running as fast as you can. You can hear his voice behind you, calling the name he'd given to you so readily, but you don't answer. Because you know that if you turn around, you'll run straight back to him because you'll have given into the fear that you don't know where else to go.

You run until all that lies ahead of you is stairs and light. You're not sure where the energy has come from, but you take the stairs faster than the level ground until people stop staring and no one stops you and a wall opens up to the sky.

You stop dead in your tracks. The breeze is warmer than when you woke near to the ocean and the clouds across the sky are welcoming. You step out, flinching as the door closes behind you and you're surrounded by blue and white. Your curls dance across your throat and you can taste the salt in the air as you lick your lips. The leaves on the potted tree beside you, rustle and it's the only other sound apart from the birds that skim across the ocean's surface. It's calm and serene and you think that it's the perfect place to stop and take a breath. You close your eyes, letting the sunshine warm you as you take slow, steady breaths. But you're still shivering and you realise that the sun itself wouldn't know how to warm this particular cold and you back away from the rail, until your shoulders hit painted glass and you're sliding down to the floor. You pull your knees into your chest, watching as the birds fly higher and higher, above the line of the mountains in the distance and with each flap of their wings they're further away.

And you realise, as you hug your legs tighter and wish you had the answers; that you're so completely alone.

TBC.


	5. Remember

_As you are rising,_  
_to bring me my forgotten ways._  
_Strange how I falter,_  
_to find I'm standing in deep water Strange how my heart beats,_  
_to find I'm standing on your shore._  
On your Shore_,_** Enya**

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**Chapter 5: Remember

"He said that I'd find you here." She whispers as the sound of the door swooshing closed fills your senses and the light of the stars overhead, smile down upon you. You're not sure how long you've been out here, but you're content in that it's brought you a moment's peace. Even though the air is chilled and the night has brought with it, a silent breeze, this place soothes you and you don't feel cold. It takes you a moment to register her voice, only several more to realise the intention of what she'd just said and you tilt your head up - looking with green eyes - upon a face that you feel you should know, somehow.

"How could he know?" Your voice is choked but she doesn't address it. She smiles and gently lowers herself to sit down beside you. You get the feeling that she was sent to retrieve you, but you're grateful that she's not making haste.

"He knows you," She shrugs as you meet her eye and you find yourself smirking. "they say that people who suffer from amnesia will often do things, subconciously, that they took for granted before. Like this place," She waves her hand out to the balcony and the stars and the spires of the city beyond. "maybe you came here because you were drawn to this place." There is silence between you for a time. Meredith is watching the stars and the few times that you study the side of her face in the moonlight, you think of a woman with light curly hair and you smile because you've seen a face you remember from before.

You open your mouth to address it, to mention how much she reminds you of someone you know. But you've got no idea who that person is and if you did, you're sure she wouldn't, so you stay silent. You watch, as she creases her brow and appears to ready herself to speak.

"My father," She begins. "told me a lot of stories about this balcony." She's smiling whistfully, looking up towards the heavens and you turn to try and see what it is she's looking at. But after several moments of staring up into nothing but sky, you realise that what she's looking at, isn't up there. "He told me about my uncle, how he used to sit out here for hours, just watching the stars and the sunset and the waves crashing against the piers. All of us watched him at one time or another; I vaguely remember even standing just inside those windows-" She's pointing just behind you, to where the windows open into a large, abandoned, office with an empty vase on the desk and plaques on the walls, covered in years of dust. "-watching him, wondering what he was thinking. I always thought that he knew I was there, but he never asked me to leave. He never," She took a deep breath pressing her eyes closed for a moment before turning slightly to see your face. You know you look confused, but you hope that your expression can convey both that and the fascination you feel, with what she's telling you.

You're afraid of him, you're sure of that. Because he knows who you are and he knows your past. He doesn't know why you haven't aged a day, but he doesn't question it in a way that makes you feel that he could have some idea. But that doesn't stop you from wondering why it is that he seemed so passionate about your return, so open and aged in a matter of moments that it took your breath away.

"-he behaved like he didn't care that people watched him. I didn't quite understand it, I was only a child and there were so many secrets here, back then. My father told me not to pry and I tried my hardest not too, but it's in my nature to be curious, it's part of why we're still here, searching the database and continuing to learn. What he did tell me, was that my Uncle - John Sheppard," She clarified. "was waiting for something. He was prone to rambling, my Dad," Meredith laughed gently and you find it difficult not to share in her mirth. "but when he wanted to be sincere, he was so warm and loving. He did mutter about various reasons that Uncle John behaved in the way that he did, spending his time reading in locked rooms, hiding from IOA visits and spending most of his evenings out here. But I always knew which reason was the truth."

"What was it?" You realise momentarily, that you haven't spoken in some time and you blush at the smirk on her lips because she's noticed the same thing.

"You know," She smirks. "he's not really my uncle." You don't mention that she's avoided your question.

"Oh?" You don't know why, but you're suddenly intrigued because you get the feeling that this small revelation could help you remember.

"My Grandfather was Doctor Rodney McKay." She states and your heart quickens slightly at the sound of that name. "My father told me stories about how, many years ago, this city used to be on a different planet, in a different ocean, far from here and that my Grandfather and 'Uncle John' were members of an expedition to explore distant worlds." She shrugged. "I was never quite convinced that was true. I mean, I grew up here and I've always known that this city was special; But I've always been able to see the lights of San Fransisco from my bedroom window. It's amazing what the human mind can refuse to believe if given enough to cling to."

"'That's what it's called? San Fransisco?" You question and she nods, smiling before standing up and moving to the rail. Hesitantly, you follow her and stand beside her with the wind catching in your hair.

"Look," She pointed towards the shore. "if you look closely enough, you can see the lights from the trams at night, moving up and down the hills. I lived there for a short time when I was a child, my mother took me to school there. But when I was eighteen, I came back here. I travelled a little, and whilst I was working on my Ph.D I spent a lot of time in Washington. But this is home." She looks down at her hands and you notice her fidgit and you feel, somewhere within you, that she's trying her hardest not to look at you. "all of my life I've felt tied to this place," there is a tear in her eye and you can see it as the light from the moon makes it glisten. "but the stories." She takes a deep breath. "My father told me that when he was a child, Uncle John was a dark, troubled man. Moreso than he is now. He told me that," She takes a deep breath and you stare in deep concentration, listening to every word like a breath into your body. "my uncle was waiting for something. I didn't know then, what that something was and when my Grandfather sat me on his knee and told me stories about the woman that used to lead this city, I thought his tales wonderous at first and ludicrous as I got older." She turns and suddenly she's looking straight at you and you're afraid that you're to blame for this strangeness you see in her eyes. "Only a handful of scientists work this city now, it's halls are locked and it's rooms are abandoned. We study it's secrets because we know there is still so much here to learn, but the days of the glory of this city, died with him." She looks up and you can see his face before you, his lop-sided smirk, his wide, untamable eyes, you see his passion and you see his arrogance and you feel your heart constrict at the idea that it could possibly be coming back to you.

"I do feel tied to this place, as tied to it as he or my father ever were. But standing here with you now, seeing how my Uncle's eyes have finally opened, seeing him smile in a way that I've never seen him smile. I realise now, that you," She takes another long, deep breath and she's looking straight into your soul. "you are this place."

"I don't," You stammer and you look away; you're trying not to believe that and you're not entirely sure why. Maybe because, since the moment you arrived, you felt like you were where you were supposed to be. Naked and alone on the freezing edge of the water and you weren't terrified. The feel of the metal beneath you fingertips had been strange, but not unfamiliar and as you look up into the sky, you can see that the constellations are like a memory from a dream, or maybe not a dream.

"You are." She's smiling and you're confused but she takes your hands in her own and she doesn't turn away. "in my entire life, I've barely ever seen my uncle smile. Today," She paused, swallowing. "you have to let him tell you his story. I can only tell you so much, but he lived in a time when this city flew through the stars. There are things he can tell you that I've never even believed. I know that you're afraid, I would be too, but I don't think you have the time to be afraid."

"I'm," You hesitate as a realisation hits you. You stare into her eyes, feeling the whir of past experiences - out of order and out of whack- running through your head in fast-forward. She's smiling, waiting patiently for your reply, but all you can see is his eyes staring back at you and you remember now, who it is that she looks like and you're sure it's only a woman you may have met twice before, perhaps less because you can't remember her voice. Her hair was a soft brown, curls and full so unlike her brother's and she had a kind smile. You're not sure why she's the first you remember, because wouldn't it make more sense to remember those closest to your heart? But she looks so much like her and maybe that's why, you don't really know. But then an image of John pops into your mind, jumping out from nowhere and you startle. You realise belatedly that you startled physically and Meredith has a firmer grip on your hands, a worried look in her eyes. You see his dark hair and his green eyes, no longer clouded over but vibrant and sure and he's smiling down at you like you're all he needs in the world. And then it hits you. "I'm not afraid of knowing." You breathe in and out as your heart pounds. "I want to know." Tears are pouring down your cheeks as the faces attack you and call to you and your mind throbs with the pain of release. It's small peices, it's not everything. But it's heavy and it's intense and you want it to keep going but you want it to stop. "I'm afraid that I'm going to lose him again."

"Elizabeth," You sob as she says your name, because it still sounds so strange to your ears. She's reaching for you and you can feel her fingertips against your cheek as you turn your face into her hand, weeping for the man you haven't yet lost. "you have time."

"No," You rise suddenly. Your eyes are puffy and you know they're red, but you hope that it doesn't look so bad with only the light of the moon to show it. "no, I don't. He's over ninety years old and I'm what? thirty-five?"

"He can tell you who you are." She emphasises nearly every word and you feel a little guilty, because she's trying so hard to convince you. But you know you're right. The universe can't be that merciful. Nothing is that merciful.

"And then he'll go and I'll say goodbye and I'll be alone again."

"Elizabeth," She smiles gently and you turn your eyes away because you know that whatever she says next is going to be right. "you can't let that be reason for you not to try. It's not his fault."

"And I don't blame him!" You look up sharply, eyes blaring though you know she didn't mean it to be hurtful so you take a deep breath and study your fingers. "I could never blame him. I just," She's watching you and you wish that you could hate her for her close concern, so that you could tell her to back off. But you can't and you tell yourself that you won't. "I just don't know where to start."

"Go to him." Meredith smiles and nudges your hand with the back of her knuckles.

"I don't,"

She cuts you off with a smirk. "Elizabeth, go to him. Trust me, he's been thinking about what to say for the last sixty years. Let him talk."

TBC.


	6. Lament

_I know that if I have heaven there is nothing to desire._  
_Rain and river, a world of wonder may be paradise to me_.  
~ China Roses, **Enya**

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**Chapter 6: Lament**

You hear the sound of the door, loudly whooshing to the side. But it's a sound that you've become accustomed to, even though you hadn't realised it and it doesn't bother you in the slightest; doesn't even make you jump like the first time, when Meredith and Caleb brought you in from the pier.

Something catches your eye, across the room. It's what you're looking for. Half his body is shadowed by the darkness of the room, but the other half is bathed in the light from the open window. A chill runs through you at the memory it conjures; still out of control with your own thoughts, it rushes over you unbidden and you see the markings of blue accross his skin, you see the scales and the yellow of his eyes and you recoil, if only for a moment, before reminding yourself that he's just an old man now.

You tell yourself that he lived through far worse and probably far worse since you disappeared - you refuse to admit that you died and you think, so does he.

Crossing the room slowly, you know that he's aware there is someone in his room by the way his shoulders twitch slightly. You wonder if he knows it's you, the way you like to imagine that he would. It's a thought that adds itself to the plethora of emotions that are slowly coming back to you in short, teasing bursts. It's a hope, that there really is something more with this man that you simply can't remember. You're terrified that it was just a hope, even back then.

"Do you remember when we used to stand out on the balcony together?"

The question stops you short, you freeze because you hadn't expected him to speak. You stand there a moment, in the centre of his room. You glance around, feeling the chill of the ocean breeze through the open window as you bite your bottom lip.

"I rememeber, snowflakes," You smile, because that's not something that you're making up. At least you hope that it's not, you're never entirely too sure. The way his shoulders shake with a gentle laugh, your grin brightens because you know in that moment, that he understands.

"It was Christmas," He breathes, turning around to meet your eyes with a bright smile. The moonlight shining through the window makes the edges of his face almost glow and the tops of his whitened hair glisten. He pats the bed beside himself and before you know it, your feet are following his instruction. You slowly, cautiously slip down to the mattress beside him, smiling as he tilts his head, remembering. "we weren't sure what season it was, let alone whether it was christmas day or not. Over two hundred crew and constant contact with Earth, yet still, no one remembered to bring along or provide an accurate calendar. Aside the fact that having so many international members of the expedition made it near to impossible to celebrate holidays with any kind of regularity. And with constant attack from the wraith..." He lets that last comment hang in the air between you as he notices your slight tilt of the head. You're confused because you can't remember all of these details, you can't even remember what you were wearing but you remember his smile.

"It snowed unexpectedly."

He nods, licking his lips and reaching across the devide between you to grasp your hand. You relish it, even though his hands are old and calloused. It makes you feel safe.

"It did," He answers, as though what you'd said was a question. And you know that he's doing this so that you don't feel like you're a helpless child. He's telling you like it were a story from a dream and maybe it was. So many years ago, it could have all been one long, beautiful dream.

Narrowing your eyes as you think, you can feel his gaze upon you but you fight meeting his eyes for a moment, as you sort through the flashes of memories this place brings. You know that not all the memories are from the same moment in time. Sometimes it's sunny and you can remember a warmth on your face; you can see his smile in the orange hue of the sunset and it almost feels real to you. But in other flashes the sky is dark and stars twinkle above his head like fireflies in the garden. You notice though, that in every flash, it's his eyes that you see.

Looking up, you're slightly startled to see him there, watching you so intently. His eyes are still that brilliant green-ish-brown that you see in flashbacks to a different world; a different him but the same you. You open your mouth to speak, to voice the thoughts rushing to you, but he seems intent on keeping your pace slow and steady as he gently caresses your fingers and your lips fall closed.

It's then that your eyes catch the small object on the bedside table, behind him. You glimpse over his shoulder, shifting slightly in order to see it better. It's perched right there, beside his bed between a photo of young pilots and a beaten, old, fortune-telling 8-ball. Above, hangs a Johnny Cash poster and you wonder how you can recognise the old man in the black-and-white shot, with a guitar rested against his leg, but you can't remember what your grandfather looked like. You realise then, where you are.

You had come here, as if knowing exactly where you were going. You'd walked right through the door that opened up for you like you weren't meant to be here. Like the city itself was telling you that this is where you were meant to be. Meredith and Caleb stopped you, turned you back, but not before you'd pressed your fingertips to the cool terracotta of the small urn.

"Do you remember that?" He questions and you look to him suddenly, eyes wide and somewhat surprised that he knows precisely what object you're looking at. But then you think, he seems to know you and he's going to know what objects are going to have signifigance in this place. You get the strange feeling, this object holds the most signifigance an object can; at least for him. And you start to wonder, why it means so much to you that your heart is beating faster.

You nod slowly, slipping your hand from his gently, in a manner that suggests you never want to part, but need to. Reaching out with both hands, you grab it, delicately, reverently, studying the etchings carved around it's edges. "It was your birthday," His voice is wistful, quiet and you notice that his eyes haven't left your hands. "I didn't know you very well, but I thought I knew you enough. I thought you deserved something nice."

"There was a woman," You press your eyes closed, trying to force your onslaught of mis-matched thoughts into some kind of order. "She was...me, but not me."

John beams at you and you feel your heart flutter. You wonder if he always made your heart race and you think that that's a ridiculous thought to have. He was a young man once, and you are a young woman. With the upward flick of his salt&pepper hair and the curve of his smirk, you can imagine - even if it wasn't ever true - falling for this man's charm in the blink of an eye. Even moreso, when he was young and vital.

"Ten thousand years." You breathe and immediately, his face betrays that he understands exactly how you feel.

"You," He pauses, hesitates, nods. "she, waited ten thousand years just to see her people live."

"John," You start, noticing the look in his eyes for what it was. Regret, defeat, understanding, devotion.

"I know how she feels," He breathes and you can feel your heart has risen into your throat. "It's nice to know that the wait was worth it. That the sacrifice was worth it." You stare into his eyes, seeing the meaning behind his words in the way he studies your eyes. You know you're blushing, but you're moritfied too; hypocritical of the fact that he'd waste his life waiting for you when you would and had done just the same for him.

TBC.


	7. Gone

_You go there you're gone forever I go there I'll lose my way We stay here we're not together Anywhere is._  
~ Anywhere Is, **Enya**

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**Chapter 7: Gone**

You find yourself spending hours of your days with him. Getting lost in his stories; fairytales, you like to call them. But he's just as proud, if not moreso, of you when you find yourself filling in the gaps he leaves on purpose. He's baiting you, you know that. He's urging you to remember, to recall what you've lost. And whilst you're grateful to him; the more you remember, the more painful it becomes and you find that it feels awfully characteristic of you, to try and hide from that pain.

You realise that slowly, you're getting to know Meredith just as well as you ever knew him or those faces that you remember from so long ago. They're still only faces, given names when he tells you his stories, but in your mind their faces stand out to you more than anything else. Their faces are more real, more important, than the stories behind them.

Meredith takes you to the Mainland and you realise, as you step down into the small boat - which is large by ferry-boat standards, but tiny compared to Atlantis - that in all the time you've been 'back', this is the first moment that you've actually felt the gentle cadence of the waves, rocking the boat from side to side. It doesn't make you nervous; it makes you nostalgic for faces even older than the ones closest to your heart. You smile across the boat at Meredith - she's wearing a broad sun-hat and large sunglasses. She looks elegant, you think and it reminds you of the woman that used to sit you on her knee down by the lake-side as you watched a distinguished man attempt to row a canoe.

You find that you like the memories that come to you in small moments. When John touches your hand, you get a flash of memory of him touching you somewhere else. Sometimes it makes your heart flutter, sometimes it makes your breath quicken and sometimes, when he meets your eye at just the same moment, it makes your cheeks flush crimson.

Meredith is a great help with the smaller things. She encourages you to remember how John likes his tea but you're worried that you can't conjure a single moment in your scattered memory, when you ever brought his tea - You can't even gather the notion that he'd ever liked it. John tells you later, with a gentle chuckle as he sips tea that is too bitter, that ihe/i was the one that always, always, brought tea to iyou/i. And you grin like a child because he's found yet another way, to make you feel like you're not a failure.

It's like magic, his gift. He knows just the way, with a weathered smile, to hand you a few baby steps forward just after you thought you'd taken two back.

The streets of San Francisco are busy and you find yourself overwhelmed at first; frightened even, if you're willing to admit it. It's been almost three months since you awoke on what you now know, is the West Pier. And in those entire three months, you've never been in a room with more than ten people at a time. The sheer thousands that pass you in the first five minutes of stepping into the Market at Meredith's side, terrify you. But there is Meredith with her familiar smile, right there by your side and she whispers that her Uncle John used to take her to this Market when she was a child, that they'd eat Candy Corn until their bellies hurt and ride the Ferris Wheel at the Fair twice a year.

Suddenly, with the thought of Ferris Wheels, you find that you're not so afraid; because it makes you think of John, as he was, and you feel safe with his smile in your heart.

You never stay too long though. The crowds are too much and you're sure that Meredith can see in your eyes, that there is something there, still burning, that is urging you to run back to him. She mentions, quietly one night as the two of you sip warm milk and munch on chocolate chip cookies, that she understands why you feel so drawn to him, beyond the feelings you clearly shared for each other, way back then. She says how she can see it in the way you ache for each new story he has to tell, each moment that passes where another truth just might slip past his lips.

He is the last remaining link to the woman that you are. Not were, or had been. The world has moved on without you, generations have passed on, grown and left this place but here you are, in an all but alien world; alone.

She tells you with a small smile, that she'll never be offended if you choose his whispered fairytales over shopping through the market with her.

You've made a dear friend in Meredith and you're grateful to her for all that she's done. But when the kind-mannered doctor - Samuel McKay, Meredith's older brother - declares him bedridden, you incline your head with glistening eyes and tell her honestly, that it's time you sat down and listened to all the fairytales you can possibly get. She doesn't say a word, just wraps her arm around your shoulders in shared heartache and the both of you walk the length of the darkened hall towards his room with Caleb following close behind. The lights don't shine as brightly in the halls when you're not with John and while you notice this, notice how even Atlantis seems to weep for him, you say nothing of it.

And you don't tell Meredith that you can see in Caleb's eyes, that his heart is breaking for her.

"We got pretty used to this, didn't we?" You ask and John smiles, his lips shaking slightly as he holds back a cough.

"Yeah, we did." You're talking about sitting by his side, watching him recover each time he risked his life and managed to only _just_ survive. But you both know you mean something else. He's here, you're right beside him and since that day in the control room, as you looked up at him and held a magnum of champagne to your chest, the setting you were in never mattered, as long as it was you and him against the universe. And you realise just there, that the magnum of champagne was another little detail he'd purposely left out to see if you remembered.

"Is it really a terrible thing to get used to?" He asks and you smirk, brushing your fingers across his knuckles as you fight a few tears that spring to your eyes for no apparent reason. You're kidding yourself though, because you know very well the reason for those barely concealed tears. You couldn't be with him, completely, back then and you can't be with him now and the irony of it is a sudden blow to the chest.

As he sleeps you find yourself studying his hands. Every crease and wrinkle and callous. You think of the lines across his hands as a sort of timeline of his life, kind of like the way hundred year old trees grow ring after ring, growing taller and stronger as the time passes by them on the breeze. You compare his life to those trees; near to a hundred years, waiting in the same forest, watching the ebb and flow of time. It also speaks to the almost organic feel of Atlantis. With water trickling through the halls like a babbling brook and the towers, tall organic spires, standing beside him in his dark solitude.

You smile through tears and saddened eyes that now remember all he ever meant to you and your heart flutters and a vice grip holds it tight as he whispers that this is the way it's supposed to be. You're smiling but it breaks your heart when he speaks quietly; his voice small but steady as he says:

"I was always supposed to die first, Elizabeth." He smiles up at you, lovingly and finally at peace. In the glistening of his beautiful, dark, hazel eyes you see the man you fell in love with in the city that flew amongst the stars and he breathes his last promise, touching your cheek with all the tenderness of a man who's loved the same woman, his entire life. "It's okay now."

You feel guilty but you also feel cheated because you've only just gotten him back but now you're losing him again. The world isn't fair, you've always known that. But fate, it seems, is all the more cruel and without heart.

His eyes close and his breathing evens out and you get the instant memory of shouting his name through a static radio to no reply. You ignore that Meredith is sitting behind you, sobbing quietly. Samuel and Caleb are across the room, both men with their arms crossed over their chests and their lips pressed together in identical, thin, tense lines. You don't want to acknowledge that they're there because that would mean acknowledging that this is all real. That would mean acknowledging that you really did come back from the dead, only to watch the only man you ever thought you could love, die.

"To have you here, Elizabeth..." Meredith starts, but her sobs pull her words to a sudden halt. She can't voice it but you know what she's trying to say. Even through your own pain, you completely agree with her because you know what these last few months have meant to him. And you don't want to imagine what he'd have felt, the pain he would have gone through, if he'd had to face the end alone.

You're grateful then, in the silence of the infirmary where Samuel's patients are few though the equipment is far more advanced than anything Carson ever had to work with. You're grateful that you could give him this; grateful that you could give him one moment of peace in a lifetime of waiting.

Dropping your head down, you clutch his hand within your own, no longer caring for the way your taut skin looks against his aged fingers.

Your heart is in your throat and tears seep from your eyes, soaking into the blanket as your body shakes with grief because he's so unquestionably gone.

And suddenly it's like you're floating between worlds again.

So irrevocably alone.

TBC


	8. Hero

Instrumental.  
~ Enya, The Memory Of Trees

* * *

This is probably strange, that I'm updating this now. But this story has been complete for over 2 years, but I've never managed to finish uploading it to this site. But just today I received a comment on it over on Livejournal (which I never visit now) and I was so touched that I figured I should finish posting it and share the ending with the rest of you that were enjoying it here.

This is not updated from the original format. Please excuse any growth I've made in my writing ability, since this story was original posted in November 2010.

* * *

Chapter 8: Hero

"You're out here again." Turning your head slightly, you see Meredith's silhouette in the doorway to what was once your office. The lights are on inside; a change to the norm of the last sixty years, because you made the conscious decision to remember everything that you can, now. In the pitch black covering her front, you can't see her, but by their absence at her sides, you know that she has her hands firmly clasped together. You're not the only one that has lost today, you know that and you know that she's hurting too, but you couldn't find it in yourself to stay in that room, with them, with _him_.

You smile sadly, and it's a slow, empty motion that you know she recognises. "It's the only place I feel at home, really."

She nods silently, making her way across the balcony and slowly lowering herself to sit beside you. She takes a deep breath and it's winter over San Francisco, so you can see the cloud of her warm breath float away on the shadows of the chilly night. You've been outside long enough, that your own breath doesn't leave the same mark anymore.

She purposely turns her head towards you and you can see her eyes now, even if still shadowed slightly. You're aware your own face is in full light from the door ahead of you and the windows behind, you're aware that she can see every line of every tear, but you reason that she'd have known they were there regardless, so you ignore it. "No it's not, Elizabeth."

Your mouth opens slightly in protest. You want to fight that, _yes it is_. It's the only place where you felt you could touch him, really touch his soul. It's the first place you remember arguing with him, it's the first place you remember seeing him, as he is now.

You pause, eyes widening as you realise that he's no longer what he was, no longer as you've come to know him. He's now something entirely different. He's now, gone. And suddenly, you agree with her. You don't feel at home here, you never did. It was only home because he was in it.

Her lips curve in a slight smile that sparkles in her eyes and for a moment, you wonder how she can possibly conjure such a mirthful, knowing expression at a time like this. But you want to slap yourself for being so depressive. He wouldn't have wanted that. He was a dark, sometimes brooding man. He had his demons, many of whom you knew all too personally but you know, perhaps better than anyone, that he had a childlike heart. He was so full of wonder and adventure; so brave, so courageous, so bold. He was a hero, in the truest, most poetic sense of the word.

You finally admit that you didn't like to call his stories fairy-tales because you were hesitant to believe them; on the contrary, you believed every single word. No, you liked to call them fairy-tales, because the image of him riding in on a white horse, to save the day at the eleventh hour, with shining armour and a sword to weild his heroic purpose, was not something you had difficulty imagining. In fact, when he talked of BDU's and flack vests so tight they itched, you thought of silken robes and edwardian crests. When he talked of running for all he was worth, from a T-Rex on a barely habitable planet, you thought of him standing his ground against a broad-winged dragon. You unconsciously smile as you remember him talking of coming home to you, knowing you were here waiting and you remember imagining yourself as the princess, locked in the safety of the tower, able to look out upon her kingdom, but never leave.

"I suppose you're right." You concede and ignore the way she's looking at you like you disappeared for a moment, because you know that's precisely what you did. You drifted, back into thoughts of him and them and way back when the stars were different. "Did he," You start, but stop and she turns from the stars to you, waiting patiently. "Did he ever talk to you, about me?"

She's silent for a moment and you imagine that she's thinking. You're hoping that she's searching for the right words and not deciding what to say and what not to. You don't want to be spared truths, not anymore.

"He," She takes a deep breath and you find yourself holding your own. "He mentioned a woman a few times. I never knew a name or anything like that, but when he'd talk about her, he'd get this look in his eye like he was somewhere else. I always wondered who this woman was, but I never asked. It just didn't seem right, I felt like I'd be intruding on something special, something sacred." She meets your eye and you feel suddenly, completely exposed. "I can see now, from what he told me, that he was talking about you."

"What did he," You're embarrassed and your cheeks flush at the way your voice cracks, nervously, but you clear your throat and continue. "What did he say?"

She smiles against the moonlight and you know now, that the name of the woman you see in her smile, is Jeannie McKay. Someone that you met only very briefly, but who you respected, greatly.

"He said that she was a great leader, that she was the first person who'd ever given him a real chance, who'd ever offered him a door that had been slammed closed in his face time and again." You smile privately, remembering the look on his face when you'd asked him to join you on the most terrifying mission of your life. You hadn't known him then and he hadn't known you, but you'd seen something in his eyes, something powerful, something truly noble. You remember wanting that kind of man by your side, well trained military loyalists be damned. You remember wanting him, because protocols weren't his concern, people were and the mission you were embarking on was nothing like the world had ever seen before. The centuries of military rules, never applied to you; they didn't, couldn't have.

She's quiet again, but you're satisfied enough, not to ask for more. You feel warmer, safer. You can still feel the chill right down to your bones, but it's no longer the emotional drain chilling your body to the core. The pain has ebbed away just enough for the breeze to do the cooling and the night to keep your drying tears, shadowed. You don't expect it, when she speaks again.

"He told me, only once, of the terrible mistake he made."

Caught by surprise, your head whips around to her, eyes begging for explanation. "He told me about the Replicators, what they were, what they did. He told me about so many of your enemies and so many of the foes he faced. Mostly in the form of fairy-tales with embellishments, but I learnt to tell the difference between the truth and the fabrication. Anyway," She turns her whole body toward you, reaching up to hold the hand you have resting on your knee. "he told me about what happened to you, about that one decision that ruined everything."

"What decision?" You ask, because you find that that's something you just can't recall. John told you that that's one memory that just might not come back; Damage caused by the accident, he reasoned, nothing to do with your ascension.

Her eyes are surprised. "You don't remember?"

"No."

She blinks and you wish in that moment, that this was one thing that didn't need to be explained to you because everyone seemed to have a terrible time getting it out.

"There was a choice, one that could have been prevented. One that could have prevented all this." You know immediately, that she's talking about you and being the last of your kind. "I don't know the details, but he said that the day he ignored your hesitance, your intuition, was the one day he's regretted his entire life."

"No," You breathe, seeing flashes of an icy silence drift through your mind. You see John and the Atlantis briefing room and you remember being angry and tired and fed-up. You remember disagreeing with him and you remember, the hurt that you felt when you realised it didn't matter. "it can't be."

She looks confused and you want to explain to her, everything that you're feeling as the memories flood you. But they're blurred and distorted and you can only pick out snippets that wouldn't make sense if you tried to explain. Then, suddenly, you're struck with a notion.

"What is it exactly, that you do on Atlantis?" She looks taken aback by the question, but you don't let that hinder you.

"I'm a scientist."

"What kind of scientist?"

Her brow furrows and even though you're still grieving, you feel the faint smile tug at your lips.

"Uncle John encouraged me to study Astrophysics, like my grandfather. He said that I had the potential to be as smart as my Great Aunt Jeannie, but I never met her."

You smile completely then, studying her face. "You look like her. I think you'd have liked her."

"Really?" She looks hopeful and in a strange turn of events, you're the teacher of the past. It feels good.

"Yeah," The word drifts out on a breath. "So, do you think it would be possible, to send me home?"

"To Washington?" She blinks and you realise that she must have read your file. But no, you don't mean Washington. You have nothing there, nothing left. No one.

"No," You shake your head, turning your eyes back to the stars and remembering John's arms around you as he made up stories about the Pegasus constellations. "The past."


	9. Return

Some they know as passion  
some as freedom  
some they know as love  
and the way it leaves them  
summer snowflake  
for a season  
when the sky above is blue.  
~ Enya, Flora's Secret

-

Chapter 9: Return

"What is it that you're doing?" You ask her, as you hover around her lab. She's flipping switches and calibrating machines you've never seen before, not even when Rodney was still discovering the wonders of Atlantis.

You realise that the lab you're in, is too far down from the tower for you to have seen it before. You've never been this far into the bowels of the East Pier, but you're comfortable in the knowledge that Meredith seems to know exactly what she's doing, what she's touching. She moves with a confidence that mirrors her Grandfather, and in watching her, you almost feel like you're there; almost.

"Did you ever study Astrophysics?" She questions, in response to your question. You smirk.

"I don't suppose, listening to your Grandfather at meetings with far more interest, yet no more understanding than John, counts?" She laughs gently, though she doesn't turn from what she's doing. She seems focused on her work, writing down calculations, scratching them out and re-writing them.

"Nope." You can hear the grin in her voice and it makes your smile brighten.

"Alright then," You grin and she chances a glance in your direction and you see that lopsided grin of her Grandfather on her lips. "I'll just be quiet then. I trust you."

"Thank you," She breathes. Though while you hear the sigh of relief in her voice, you know that she's not going to throw you a frustrated comment, as Rodney would have. She's not going to berate you for not knowing exactly what she's doing and even though it was a quality in Rodney that you overlooked, making him all the more endearing, you're grateful that she inherited a far more accommodating nature. No doubt, from her mother. And you realise, right then, that you have no idea who her mother was. Or her Grandmother, for that matter.

You blink, noticing that she's stopped working for a moment and she turns to you. She focuses on you and you stare, anticipating what you don't know. "You might actually be able to grasp what I'm doing, to a point."

You raise your eyebrows. "How so?"

"A few years ago, I read a mission report. It detailed the account of a woman who spent ten-thousand years in stasis, waiting for an expedition to arrive in Atlantis and trigger the fail-safes, causing the City to rise to the surface." She gestures toward you. "Your expedition."

Your eyes widen. "That was me, or a version of me." You breathe and the smile on Meredith's lips, warms your heart.

"Yes." She nods. "What I'm doing is similar to the work done by the scientist, Janus, in her report. A ship similar to the one that sent her back to the time of the ancients, was found many years ago in the Milky Way. Scientists have been studying it ever since. What I've managed to do is rework the system to send you, much the way a Stargate does, or perhaps the way the Wraith Darts I read about, did; Re-working the system to send a single person, instead of an entire vessel."

"Really?" Your eyes are full of wonder and you choose not to hold it back. Because the prospect of going home, now, is far more real to you than it was two days ago. And you try not to admit that you trust her judgement all the more, because to you, if anyone could possibly do it, it's the progeny of Rodney McKay.

"Yes. The concept is to send you, not as a separate entity, back in time. But to basically re-write time itself. That's not exactly how it works, but it's the simplest way I can think to explain it. You see, I would be sending you from here, in this lab. But I will calculate the machine so that when you arrive back in the past, at the exact time that I intend, you will appear exactly where you were, back then."

You nod, trying to comprehend it all. "So, if you send me back to noon, on the sixth of July, nineteen-seventy-five, I'll be a starfish in my first school play?"

Meredith giggles. "Yes, basically. It's not sending your body, so much as returning your mind to that time. But I intend to send you to a time a bit later than nineteen-seventy-five."

"Wow."

She nods. "If we can pull it off, yes. Though, I don't know how I'll ever know it worked, considering I would cease to exist."

There is a silence that spreads between you, filled with a deepness you can't quite grasp. You want, beyond all else, to go home. But in her words, you hear the fear she seems intent to swallow; a fear that you share. You don't want this vibrant, intelligent young woman, that you've come to love as if she were your own daughter or your very best friend, to disappear without a trace. And she would, if your being alive is the catalyst that changes her past. If your death was the one fork in the road, that brought her Grandparents together. You're startlingly aware, that she knows it's possible. But you love her all the more for working tirelessly in spite of it.

Suddenly, she steps back from her work and your eyes widen in anticipation. You jump to your feet, feeling the tension in the air as she turns to you, taking a deep breath. "I think it's done."

You're not entirely sure what to say to that. You don't know if it'd matter, leaving right now, or waiting another half an hour, so that you can say a proper goodbye. She saves you the trouble of deciding though, as she raises her hand to her radio and calls Caleb and Samuel down to the lab. You're going home, you realise and the reality hits you like a tidal wave. "I'm actually going home." You whisper and she looks up at you with a simple smile. It isn't particularly bright or joyful, nor is it sad. Just a simple, gentle acknowledgement that she was changing the course of history, because it would make her friend smile.

"Yes." Her voice shakes and you can hear it more clearly now. She's just as scared as you.

"What-what," You stammer nervously and she smiles, reaching to grasp your hand. "What was your Grandmother's name?" You know that your words have come out in a desperate rush, but you think that perhaps she knows exactly why you're asking. At least you hope she does, in spite of your anxiety.

A smile spreads on her lips, brighter, wider. But her manner is coy as she dips her head and you see that she's realised you're willing to do as great a deed for her, as she's just done for you.

"Her name was Jennifer."

Your surprise comes out in a giddy laugh. "Was her maiden name, 'Keller'?"

She smirks her curiosity as she nods her head and you continue to laugh gently. Not because you find the idea ridiculous, but because it's a match you hadn't ever considered. "And your parents, did they meet on Atlantis, or here, on Earth, outside the city?"

"Actually, my mother is Athosian. Although, she's become quite taken with South Florida. She likes to pretend that that's where she's from if anyone asks."

"But they met on Atlantis?" You realise that your voice is insistent, though you don't apologise for it.

"Yes."

Reaching up, you press your hand to her cheek as you would a sister as you bid her farewell. Running your thumb across her cheekbone, you smile and she mirrors it. Neither of you immediately notice that Samuel and Caleb have arrived. "You will exist." You promise and you squeeze her hand tightly as tears come to her eyes. "I promise you, Meredith. You will exist."

"Thank you." She whispers, almost breathlessly as you turn to the two men beside you. "She's ready to go." She addresses them with a clearer, steadier voice and they both smile. Caleb reaches for you first, wrapping you in his arms and bidding you a kind farewell. He steps back as Samuel steps forward though you don't miss that Caleb's arm has gone around Meredith's shoulders, pulling her into his chest as you embrace Samuel. "You're much more handsome than your Grandfather." You joke, kissing his cheek as he blushes and steps away.

"I'll never forget any of you." You promise, even though you're not exactly sure what this machine of Meredith's will do. If you'll remember anything at all. With a deep breath, you keep your worries to yourself and silently pray that you remember.

"You need to stand up here." Meredith gestures to the small podium behind you and without another word, you step back up, on to it. "Are you ready?"

You nod, unable to voice how desperately you want this. You set your eyes on Meredith's as she hits the button, as a whirring sound fills your senses and the small room fills with white light.

"Goodbye Elizabeth." She says softly and you smile, letting the warmth of the light take you as it causes the room before you, and your three young friends, to disappear.

"...about who's right and who's wrong, but it wouldn't matter..." There is a pause. "Doctor Weir?"

You blink, staring. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" It takes you a moment to realise who it was that was speaking. Like waking up from a very realistic dream, it takes you a moment to realise where you are. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him in the control room, beyond the glass confines of your office, and suddenly, you're stunned to silence. "John," You breathe, noticing the confused look in Colonel Ellis' eyes, though finding it hard to acknowledge him when John was right there, strong and young, just as he was, just as he is, right there before you, his eyes bearing into your soul from the moment he noticed you looking..

You could remember clearly, holding his frail hand as he slipped away. But there he is, standing before you, frowning, confused and worried. "Elizabeth, are you alright?" He questions, stepping into the office, and you swallow before trying your hand at a reassuring smile.

"Yes," You clear your throat. "I'm fine." Glancing between the two men, you take a deep breath before casting your eyes around the room. You're in your office. Back through the glass walls you can see Rodney in the control room, Chuck at his side, looking in. On the display to your right, you can see the plans for the attack on the Replicator homeworld and all of a sudden, you realise exactly where Meredith has sent you. Immediately, you know exactly what you need to do. "John, I need to speak to you in private for a moment, please."

You do your best to display the intensity that you feel, the passionate desperation, in one single look as you cast Ellis out of your acknowledgement completely. "Sure," He breathes, focussing on you and you blush slightly, under his unrelenting concern.

"Colonel, please?" You don't elaborate, feeling that simply addressing the other man, will be enough to have him know you wish him to leave.

"Yeah," He's suspicious, you can tell by his wavering tone of voice, but he doesn't protest. You're grateful for that, but you don't tell him. The man has grated on your last nerve far too much for you to give him the satisfaction.

The both of you wait until the door closes behind him. John waits, until the silence encases you both before he's by your side in less than two strides and he's looking down at you, his chest almost touching yours; almost. You can feel his breath on your face as he dips his head to ask you what's wrong. "What is it, Elizabeth? Where did you go just now?"

To him, you drifted for but a moment. And you have no idea how to tell him that you've lived a lifetime in the blink of an eye. "You're not going to believe me." You find that you're laughing, but the idea of trying to convince him, you know, is no laughing matter.

"Rodney had Cadman in his head for a few days. We've got life-sucking aliens out to kill us and/or hitch a ride to Earth and we live in a floating city-come-spaceship," He's smirking and you find yourself looking up into his eyes with a conspiratorial smile as he lowers his voice to a tender octave. "try me?"

Lowering yourself back to rest against the edge of your desk, you cross your arms over your chest. Looking up at him, scrutinizing him, you bite your lip. "Do you believe in time travel, John?"

"I spoke to the ten-thousand-year-old, you, Elizabeth. I think, having believed it or not in the past, it's a bit hard to deny what's right in front of you. And pretty niave to think you even can."

Nodding, you consider his answer. "Would you believe me if I told you that, this morning, I woke up sixty years in the future? If I told you that it's Rodney's Granddaughter that sent me back here?"

John snorts a laugh and to find yourself holding your breath, praying that he's not going to make fun of you. "I don't know Elizabeth. Rodney married, let alone, having kids?" He shakes his head and you find yourself laughing gently along with him. Sobering, you cross your arms tighter around yourself, waiting for him to elaborate on his response. "But okay, lets say that it's true. That this morning, you were on Atlantis, sixty-years in the future. Why did she send you back?" You wonder for a moment, if he only believes you because you've never sounded so crazy.

Licking your lips, you slowly stand until you're inches from his face again. Looking up into his eyes. "So that I can save you, John. The future that you had there is something I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try to prevent. You'll say that it's not possible, that it's not you. But it happened, John, and I believe that it'll happen again if I don't stop you."

He's suddenly completely serious and you realise that, regardless of what he might think of far-fetched fairy tales concocted on the spur of the moment, he's become a man open to all kinds of miracles. Somehow, someway, he believes you. At least, he believes that you believe it.

"Stop me? Save me?"

"You can't go through with this plan, John. We need to leave the Replicators alone."

His eyes widen. "Elizabeth? How can you say that? I know you don't like this plan and I can understand why that might be, but how can you even suggest that we..."

"I know how you feel about this, John." You cut him off. "But there has to be another way. This plan won't work."

"How could you possibly know that?"

You purse your lips, running it all through your head again as you consider how best to answer the question. "The things I saw." Breathing out deeply, you inch closer to him. "You were all that was left, John. You were alone and Atlantis was practically a forgotten museum piece. The crew was so small," You can feel your lips quivering and when the warmth of his hands at your elbows, radiates up, you realise that he's touching you gently, reassuringly and it's all you can do not to let out a tear. Looking up at him, seeing the care in his eyes, the concern, your heart almost breaks at the memory of his weathered features. "you were so old."

"Well, you did say it was sixty years from now, Elizabeth."

You shake your head. "I know, but it wasn't like that. It was...different."

"But what does all that have to do with attacking the Replicators?"

"If we attack them, they're going to retaliate in a way that we don't have the strength to defend. We can't win, John. So many people died. So many people will die."

"We'll protect them. Like Ellis said, they're not going to see us coming. The ships need to be destroyed, Elizabeth."

"No, John." You shake your head, fighting an uphill battle with him. He can't wrap his head around it because to him, the plan seems fool-proof. You know that if he'd seen the outcome, he'd change his play in an instant, but he wasn't the one who had lived it. "We think we have the upper hand, but we don't. We cannot do this."

Shaking his head, he starts to turn and you know that he's retreating. You've planted the seed of doubt, but he's not going to let it grow.

"John," You grab his arm as he turns away and you're desperate, but you're sure that he's caught on to that. You can see in his expressive eyes, that he's not entirely sure why. He thinks this is a done deal. "Don't agree to this." You're begging and you know it, though you know he'll never tell.

You can see that he doesn't understand. "Why are you so against this?"

"Please, John." Your voice is pleading but, deep down, you know that's not enough. Gently, he removes your fingers from the fabric of his jacket, and if he holds on a little too long, neither of you mention it.

"Please," You whisper as he turns to walk away. You can see by the way he reluctantly turns, that he doesn't want to go; your hesitance is enough to give him pause but he sees this as a good plan, he won't stop. You know that had you not seen the carnage that was to come, you would have let him go through with it. But you know the future and you know his fate and you can't bring yourself to allow him to do this. You can't bring yourself to let that future be.

He gets to the door before you gather enough strength to use the one card you've been too afraid to play. "John, wait." You call, and he stops almost as if he'd been waiting for an excuse to do so.

Slowly, you edge closer to him and you can see, almost feel the tension radiating from him. He likes this plan because it's doing something, anything, to fight back. You hate it, for the same reasons. Pleading with your eyes, you look up to him, that slight inch that makes him feel so much larger than you are. "Please," You whisper again, because your voice is too shaky to raise. "If you can't do this for them, John. If you can't do this for all the people that are going to die when the Replicators strike back," You swallow, barely containing the fear of pushing the line you're terrified to cross. In another life, this would work. But you're scared to think that this place you've returned to, where John is John again and everything is as you remember it from years ago, is somehow different. You're afraid to think that he's not going to feel the same as the John that held your hand as he died of a long, lonely life. "Do it for me."

It's a long time that you stare into each other's eyes. You feel that after all this time, you're bound to know every line, every fleck of gold in his hazel depths, but you constantly find yourself surprised by the splendour hidden in his dark gaze. "I don't understand, Elizabeth" He's trying to reason, trying to find understanding in something that will take far too long to explain, so you grasp his other hand and you move closer, no longer afraid.

Your stomach presses to his and you hold his hands together with yours, against your chest as you raise your chin in renewed defiance. "If you do this, John, I will die."

"You-" His throat catches and he goes silent, staring down at you and you're certain, he doesn't know how to answer that. He doesn't know how to ask. "Elizabeth," He breathes and you can see the flicker of doubt dance across his eyes. You notice that his hands, entwined with your own, have tightened their hold.

"If you go through with this, John, the Replicators will attack and I will die, slowly."

It's petty, you know and it's a last ditch attempt to win. You don't tell him that you're doing it for him, that you're doing it to save his life. You plead to his stronger need because you know that his own life means little to him, compared to yours. You've used the only thing that you can and in his prolonged silence, you pray that it's enough.

"Okay." He chokes, gripping your hands fiercely to his chest, holding them in one hand and using the other to grasp the back of your head, crushing you to him. "Okay."

A wave of relief washes over you as you fall into him, letting the scent of him fill your senses. You slip a hand free, wrapping your arm around and pressing your palm to his lower back, helping him pull the two of you even closer and you get the distinct feeling, that he thinks he just can't keep you close enough.

"Okay, if Ellis still insists, we'll move Atlantis before the plan goes ahead but beyond that, I'll keep myself out of it. Maybe that'll be enough to change the future. If I stay with you, maybe it'll be enough to save you."

You smile against his shirt. "A simple step to the left alters your path. Maybe it will be enough."

"It had better be."

He kisses the top of your head and you smile against his shirt again, letting silent tears of relief dampen the fabric. "Thank you," You breathe, kissing his chest and you don't really know when everything between you became so intimate. It just seems so natural to hold him, to kiss his chest like it was the simplest gesture. "Thank you."


	10. Future

_Ever close your eyes  
Ever stop and listen  
Ever feel alive  
And you've nothing missing  
You don't need a reason  
Let the day go on and on._  
~ Enya, Wild Child

* * *

Chapter 10: Future

Sitting with your back to the room, watching as the stars slowly start to gather, one by one, you listen to the constant ticking of the clock. The only measure, apart from the stars, that proves time is passing for you. You've come to appreciate the solitude this balcony offers you, listening to the sound of the waves on a night when the sea is a tumult of rips and swells. Or on still nights, listening to the steady ticking of the grandfather clock.

It's on nights like this, where it's practically silent, when you really get a chance to think about how significantly the world has changed. You feel almost bashful at the thought that you had a strong hand in it. But all you'd known at the time, was that you needed to change it, you needed to save it. Most of what had happened since, was all new territory for you. And you remember almost every time John has laughed at you when you've confessed of how glad you are, to not know what's coming.

Looking up at the moons he named for you, you smile and think of all you've gained. And it only widens when you lean out across the railing and see all that Atlantis has become. Now a thriving metropolis, you consider her to be more beautiful than ever. At night, all of her lights glow like twinkling stars and the constant flow of ships coming and going, by air and by sea, makes your heart swell with pride.

"Mom," You startle, hearing the voice behind you before you hear the sound of the door that allowed your intruder entry. Smiling regardless, you turn on the spot and cross your arms over your chest, raising a brow which causes him to stop in his tracks. "sorry." He mutters, realising that he's disturbed your stolen five minutes alone.

"It's alright, Will, what is it?"

"Oh, it's just that Rodney asked me to come get you. He said you wanted to know when the baby came."

With wide eyes and a purposeful stride, you cross the room to the curly-haired young man who'd managed to stand nearly a foot taller than you since he was thirteen years old. He was tall like you, slender and his hair was curled but the colour, raven like the bird and that perpetual smirk, were a constant reminder for you, of his father, when he was away. "And?" You question, barely able to contain your excitement.

"And," He grins. "And it's a girl. Coraia's fine. Apparently Doc says she's exhausted but she's going to be fine. Oh and Dad's sent Kanaan over to New Athos to get his brother, they didn't get here in time and all."

"Well of course," You scoff. "that baby's come a week early. Though I don't think her grandparents are going to mind. They were here for the birth of Samuel, afterall." You blink, suddenly realising what you haven't yet asked. "Wait, Will, what's her name?"

He shrugs and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't ask?"

"They didn't say." He defends, throwing his arms up in surrender.

"You didn't ask? Oh boy," You smirk, shaking your head. "Now I just know, I'm going to have to live forever."

William scunches his brow, much the adorable way that John does and it causes you to smile. He's confused. "Why, Mom?"

"Because if you take my seat on the council, who know's what will become of Atlantis." You laugh, patting his shoulder and leaning up to kiss his temple. He looks perplexed and perhaps a little hurt, but it's an innocent jibe and you know he doesn't take it to heart. Your son is made of tougher material than that and it makes you gush with adoration, when you think that this beautiful, bright, though sometimes sweetly innocent, young man, could have never been had you made different choices. You like to imagine that someway, somehow, he would have one day come to exsist. But you know the truth; you've seen it. And in his deep, moss green eyes, you see that you've made the right decision. "Where's your sister?" You question and in his smile, you know that the jibe is forgotten.

"She's gone to the gym with Torren. Apparently she's learning Bantos today, but I've got my money on Little-Miss-Fumbles coming home with more bruises than know-how."

You back-hand him across the stomach, playfully, as you head for the door. "Come on, smarty, let's go meet this baby. And will you call your Dad on your radio? I've left mine in my office."

"Again?" He whines and facing away from him, you roll your eyes. "Seriously, Mom, has the alzheimers already started to kick in?"

Stopping in your tracks, you spin back suddenly and his steps falter as he meets your eyes. He licks his bottom lip and you know that for a brief moment, he wonders if he's gone too far. "You're just lucky that I'm your mother."

"Why's that?" He scrunches his nose adorably.

"Because, making jokes about the head of the Atlantis council having Alzheimers is a punishable offense."

"Oh really?" You can hear in his voice that he's less than convinced. "Did you just make that up?"

You shake your head, turning to continue walking ahead of him, out the door and toward the infirmary. "No, it's a legitimate crime."

"What," He scoffs. "just like Dad being persecuted for stealing from your stash of already stolen chocolate, was a legitimate, punishable crime. I think, _Mother_," You smirk at the way he emphasises your title. "that you're letting this whole, 'head of the Atlantis council' thing, go to your head."

With a guffaw, you stop walking and turn back to him, waiting to take his arm.

***

All around you, the sounds of people rushing about, fills your senses. With the city almost filled to capacity, the infirmary in the tower is now only one of twelve, throughout Atlantis, all of which you find as busy and conjested as any public hospital on earth - which is basically what they've become - even though the majority of patients are allies from neighbouring planets come to take full advantage of the terms of the treaties you've drawn up over the years. You laugh, thinking over all the trade agreements you've drawn up in the past few years and wonder how free health care had become a crucial part of interplanetary relations.

If it weren't part of your day-to-day and the cause of so much tedious paperwork, you'd think of it almost bordering on the realm of science-fiction. Out of the corner of your eye, you see William smiling at you and you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him as you walk ahead, through the doors, into the lower end of the maternity ward. You're going to have to make your way all the way down to the opposite end, but you don't mind. You've been waiting twenty-three years to meet this child; another five minutes isn't going to hurt.

Smiling to yourself, you find that you're glad you've managed to keep your promise. It was hard over the years, you consider, because you'd given birth to Gillian out of a want to have as many children with John as your body could stand; and she and Jason McKay had dated all through high-school. You'd wanted to keep your promise, but you'd been happy seeing each day that your daughter was happy.

Remembering back on that time, you think that you're glad you kept it from Gillian, how secretly grateful you were, when she and Jason had amiably parted ways. It was like the universe had decided to grant your wish and your daughter hadn't had to suffer for it. You couldn't have been more grateful. And you couldn't have been happier, when Kanaan's neice, Coraia, had awkwardly stumbled into Jason's heart.

Gillian was happy studying to be an archeologist, working as Doctor Jackson's protege and coming and going between Atlantis and Earth more often than you would like. But she'd found her own love too, in Torren, and while he's six years her senior, you're more than sure that your daughter's heart is safe with Teyla and Kanaan's eldest son. Gillian had even spoken as his best friend, when Jason and Coraia had married within the year.

Now you only wonder how the future will be, when Gillian and William bring their own children into the world.

Snippets of the future you've seen before, have fallen into place over the years. Some things have remained the same and you've found it remarkably easy to notice. But its open waters from here, unchartered territory, because this child is the last of the children you've hoped would come.

With a smile on your lips, you see Samuel playing in the hall with Jossa, Teyla's grandson and you blink, not realising that you've paused in the hall as a man, a woman and a small boy are ushered in the opposite direction down the hall, being led to the clinic. "New arrivals," William confirms and though you hear his voice faintly, you're focused on the steady gaze of the little boy, being guided by the hand of his mother.

"Who are they?" You ask and you're not even sure where William drags his hand-held tablet from as he brings up the manifest of the most recently docked passenger vessel.

"Ah, the O'Connells. Marta, Andrew and Caleb O'Connell. They just arrived from the Earth Beta site on the _Amistad_ this morning."

You screw up your nose. "Terrible name for a passenger ship." You comment and William laughs in agreement. But you're focused on the boy as they disappear around a corner and you try to hide the breadth of your smile, because you know that some kind of spark has passed between you. He may not remember you, but something cosmic draws you to him as if he feels he does remember. You wonder, perhaps that's what _deja vu_ really is; an echo of moments you've lived before; a recognition of those you met in a past life.

"Yeah, it just doesn't have the same effect as a greek tragedy, does it, Mom?" Rolling your eyes, you know he's missed the point because he doesn't remember the story, but he is right. Naming a ship after a greek tragedy isn't nearly as depressing as naming it after a slave ship. Though, straightening your mind with the thought of how that story ended, you think that perhaps it's fitting. Because the slaves of the _Amistad_ found their freedom on a new shore.

"Hey you," You blink, realising that you've reached your destination and that your husband is well within your personal space. Making faces to indicate that he's nauseated, William disappears into the room full of adoring friends and family, all waiting to meet the new baby. And you and John laugh as he guides you backwards, with his hands pressed to your hips until you're back in the hallway. "I just wanted to give you a heads-up."

"On what?" You smirk.

"Jason and Coraia want to ask you something. "

"And you're not going to let them ask, themselves?"

With the decency to look bashful, John hangs his head slightly and you smile at the flecks of grey in his hair. You couldn't call it salt-&-pepper, just yet. But it's well on it's way and you don't hesitate from telling him how much you like it, when you're alone. He likes to tell you that the look suits you too, but that doesn't stop you requesitioning more deep-chestnut hair dye whenever you send for a shipment of Earth things you just can't get in Pegasus.

Kissing his cheek gently, you smile and squeeze his hand. "I think I'll wait to hear what they have to ask," You lower your voice, tenderly. "but thank you for the heads-up." Stepping around him, you make your way into the room and you know that he's followed because you can sense him just behind you. His chest isn't quite touching your back, but as you move up to the bed where Coraia is sitting with a pink bundle in her arms and the broadest grin on her face, you smile at the heat radiating from him and the love filling the room.

"May I?" You ask quietly and Coraia nods, holding her baby out for you to take.

The baby fusses and squeaks, but as you take her into your arms she quiets and her little body seems to relax into you. Her large, almond shaped eyes open suddenly and you're instantly taken with the spark of recognition. She blinks, just staring at you and you smile, rocking her from side to side.

"She likes you." Coraia whispers and you can sense an undercurrent of pride in her tone.

"We're old friends." Everyone chuckles at your comment but John meets your eye with understanding and a soft, private smile. You nod and you feel his hand pressed to the centre of your shoulder-blades. He understands because you told him all about her years ago and he's believed you all these years, with no proof.

"We wanted to ask you, First Councilor Sheppard," You frown at Jason's formal use of your title, though you don't interrupt him because you can hear that he's nervous. "If you would perform the baby's naming ceremony."

Struck dumb by surprise, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. "I'm sorry, I thought that the ceremony is something to be performed by the Athosian Elders, to formally introduce her to the Athosian people?"

Coraia nods, though her expression is determined and proud. "True, but since the Athosian people have been so interggrated with the people of Earth and since our two peoples have found a peace and love with one another, I would be honoured if you would do it. As the leader of this city, you speak for all those who inhabit it, so in a sense, we are all Atlanteans; Athosian, Human, Narkaelian, Hoff, Genii, Gundra, so many different cultures once allied or enemy, have come together in the hope of peace and found it in this city. We have found it under your leadership, Elizabeth. You and your people have brightened the future for all of us who live here and I wish for our daughter to be named by the one who has made it all possible. A true Atlantean Elder," You know there is a tear in your eye, because you feel it slowly trickle down your cheek as her words ring truer than even she knows. "And one so greatly respected."

"I," You swallow, hiding the lump in your throat. "I would be honoured." You smile brightly and laugh as the baby wraps her tiny hand around your finger. "What is-" You clear your throat, covering the fact that you're so very touched. "what is her name?"

Behind you, Rodney clears his throat and as you turn, meeting his eyes, he puffs out his chest in pride and steps foward, pressing his fingers to his grand-daughter's flawless cheek. "Named after her wise and brilliant grand-father," You grin, because behind his self-confident words, he's truely gushing. "her name is Meredith."

"Meredith," You repeat, looking back down into those so familiar eyes and seeing in their depths, the hope for a greater future.

"You like it?" He asks and you glance up at him again, feeling John's arm stretch across your back as he looks down at the baby over your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with the baby's toes in the crook of your elbow and you giggle gently as he laughs, feeling his hearty chuckle against you as you answer Rodney, honestly.

"I couldn't think of anything more perfect."


End file.
